The Darkest Thing
by FluerDeLeis
Summary: "Scream for me" he purred, his voice dripping with hidden malice and dark intentions as Jean's eyes widened with unaltered horror. This wasn't the Marco he remembered. Dark!Marco AU Hints of JeanxSasha, main pairing is JeanMarco rating may change
1. Chapter 1

It had been several days since the Attack on Trost. Clean up had commenced the very next day, which meant all uninjured soldiers had to report for service. Jean had spent every day since then sifting through dead bodies and remains, trying to decipher one person from the next. The bodies and arms had all mingled together into one huge pile of flesh that rotted of titan breath.

Occasionally Jean would come across a member of the 104th, and his stomach would pitch, bile would rise up his throat but he would bravely swallow it down, although he could not stop the tears from rising to his eyes.

Yet there was one body he did not see, one person he did not find amoung the bodies:

Marco

Jean dreaded and hoped he would find some hint of Marco's survival. Every time he came upon a dark haired soldier his heart would race and his hands would shake. But it never turned out to be the freckled boy Jean hoped and prayed to find.

So he continued to sift through what was left of the brave souls that went to slaughter the titans.

It was only of the third day that he could no longer stand the smell of rotting flesh and the sight of decaying limbs and bodies.

Jean didn't remember when he wandered off from his group, he didn't remember when the presence of no longer living bodies became too much for him.

He didn't even remember how he came to be alone in a part of the district that had already been cleaned.

It was only once he saw a shadow at the edge of his vision that he remembered where he was. The blonde blinked his eyes groggily, looking around for the shadow at the corner of his peripheral. There was nothing.

Jean was about to leave it to the stress and lack of sleep from the past few days when there it was again, in the same place, only a tad more visible.

It was the flash of dark hair that caught Jean's attention.

Immediately his head whipped to the left to follow the shadow, which vanished around the corner just as he did so.

"Marco...?" Jean whispered inaudibly. He set one foot forward hesitantly, then another, until he was jogging steadily after the figure. He paused at the corner, scanning the street for a sign of the mysterious shadow, his eyes catching movement just ahead of him, up the street.

"Wait!" he called, stretching out an arm. The person appeared not to hear him, for they only continued to run away from him. They paused for a moment, looking back, and once again Jean caught the flash of dark hair and pale skin.

He blinked, and the figure was gone, disappearing into an alleyway.

Yet when jean reached the alley, there was no sight of the person. Curiously,he wandered into the small space, only to find a person suddenly behind him.

"Jean."

Said soldier froze, the voice all too familiar. Yet there was something off that he couldn't place.

"Marco." Jean whispered as he turned around...

and stifled a scream.

Marco's body was half gone, it seemed. The skin on his right arm and torso was peeled, away, revealing taut muscle underneath. His right eyes, also, must have been gone, for it was covered with a make-shift eye patch. Yet more than that, there seemed to be an odd air to the familiar soldier, his smile cruel and wicked, brow scrunched together almost angrily. His eyes glittered with dark intentions.

Instinctively, Jean took a step backwards. 'Marco' chuckled at this.

"What is it, Jean?" he purred, his voice smooth yet venomous. "It's me, Marco!" he held his arms out placatingly, though the evil smirk on his lips did not vanish.

Jean took another step back, raising an arm defensively. "No." he murmured, brow scrunched together, his voice a defensive growl. "You aren't Marco."

Jean swear he saw Marco's eye twitch with anger, but it was soon smoothed into an almost sickeningly sweet face. "Now, Jean." He murmured, beginning to walk forward now. "I wouldn't make me angry if I were you."

A shiver raced up Jean's spine at Marco's words. For the first time since the attack, true fear began to creep into his mind, dark tendrils wrapping around his thoughts and holding them captive.

At Marco's advance, Jean backed up, panicking when he felt the brick wall of the alley press up against his back. He glanced at the wall, then back at Marco, who now had him trapped with his arms.

Jean raised up his hands to shove Marco away. All Jean could catch was a sweet smile before his hands were seized and he was suddenly spun and pinned to the ground.

It took a moment for Jean to recompose himself. "You bastard! You aren't Marco!"

A hand roughly seized his hair and brought his head up off the ground, only to brutally slam it into the cobbled pavement. Stars twinkled in Jean's vision, a broken groan echoed from his lips. He was dimly aware of the sense of warm blood dripping from his forehead. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as Jean pushed himself up, only to have himself flipped over roughly, and a heavy weight land on his torso, forcing all breath from his lungs.

A dark chuckle spilled from Marco's lips as he reached down and secured Jean's hands above his head. The blonde struggled against Marco, but his grip was like a vice. Jean felt pure unaltered terror sweep through his body, only furthering his struggles. Marco merely continued to laugh, his eyes sweeping over Jean's body and sending a tremor up Jean's spine.

Jean could hardly see past the stars that continued to plague his vision. He could make out the wicked smile on Marco's lips, and the hand reaching towards him. Instinctively Jean tensed, closing his eyes and waiting for the brutal punch that would send him spiraling into darkness. But no, Marco's hand was soft and gentle on his cheek, caressing it carefully before moving to his forehead and wiping at the blood pooled on his brow.

The dark haired soldier chuckled deeply as he raised the blood stained hand to his mouth and let his tongue flicker over his fingers.

"B-bastard." Jean slurred, his words incoherent. The hand that had caressed jean's face so gently came to whip his head sideways and leave a burning sting on his cheek.

"I dare you to call me that again." Marco growled in Jean's ear.

But Jean was silent, unable to speak past the pain. This satisfied Marco, for a queer smile creeped onto his lips. Jean stared up at him with dull eyes.

A dry chuckle issued from Marco's throat as he reached into his boot, retrieving a small dagger and forcing it up under Jean's chin. The soldier gulped visibly, craning his neck farther away from the blade as it bit into his skin. But Marco pressed it farther, laughing wickedly as a small trickle of blood flowed from the cut.

"Marco." Jean whispered, trembling. "Marco, why?"

Marco shuddered with pleasure at the sound of Jean's voice, broken and scared, tinted with fear.

"Oh Jean." Marco purred, wiping away the bangs soaked with blood on Jean's forehead. "You really thought that I was ever your friend?"

Jean watched Marco with glassy eyes, face twisted into a grimace.

"You really thought I was actually noble, that I really was a soldier of humanity?" he went on, petting Jean's cheek with the knife, watching excitedly as a sliver of blood bloomed on the pale skin. "I never was. I'm nothing but corrupted and rotten on the inside, can't you see?" he chuckled darkly, his smile broadening at Jean's whimper of pain. "All I ever wanted when i was next to you, while I was with you, was to hear you cry, plead, beg for mercy. I want to hear your screams Jean."

With that Marco took the danger and thrust it deep into Jean's shoulder as Jean let loose a cry. Blood poured from the wound as Marco removed the blood soaked dagger.

"Scream for me, Jean."Marco whispered in the soldier's ear. "Scream."

Tears filled Jean's eyes, mixing with the stars and making sight impossible. Marco wedged the blade back into jean's shoulder, making a scream rip from Jean's throat.

Jean could hear Marco's manic laughter as he fell into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

"Jean!"

"Jean!"

"Oh God, Jean!"

Jean's eyes fluttered open, pain instantaneously washing over him and making a strangled moan fall from his lips. His eyes met hazel irises, and immediately his eyes flew open and a broken scream fill his throat.

"Oh god, Marco! Marco, no!" he could feel the hot wetness of tears filling his eyes as he closed them tight and curled into himself, away from the eyes that seemed to stare deep into his soul.

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Jean nearly screamed again as the pain filled his entire body.

"Jean, Jean calm down! It's me, Connie!"

Jean pushed the hands holding down his shoulder away. "Marco! I'm sorry! Oh Jesus, I'm sorry!" his words were babbled and incoherent, slurred with the toxidity of pain and fear.

"Sasha, help! He's bleeding!"

"Jean, calm down! It's us!"

"Out of the way."

"Annie-!"

The blonde brought down her hand sharply against Jean's cheek, startling him into silence. Jean's eyes went wide, his body freezing long enough for Sasha to come into his vision.

"Jean." She spoke softly, trying not to startle the poor boy. "Jean, can you hear me? It's me, Sasha."

Jean at last seemed to focus on Sasha, eyes dilated and full of fear.

"Sasha?" he asked at last, his voice cracking as he spoke the name.

Sasha let out a relieved exhale and nodded. "Yeah." her brow knitted together in worry. "Jean, what happened to you? Who-"

All at once, jean recalled the malicious smile, the evil glint in hazel eyes. Instinctively he flinched away from Sasha, who had reached out a hand to him.

"Marco." He whispered, looking around wildly for any trace of the dark haired soldier.

"Jean, Marco's still missing. We haven't found his body yet." Sasha whispered gently. Jean turned to her, eyes like a trapped animal's. Marco's words echoed in his ears.

_Scream for me, Jean_

Jean choked back the yell that bubbled up his throat. He looked to Annie and Connie, then back at Sasha.

"B-but..."

"We can discuss this later. Right now Jean needs medical attention." Annie declared, her voice dry.

Sasha nodded. "You're right. Come on, Jean. Let's get you to the infirmary"

Jean looked blankly at his comrades as he was hauled to his feet, one arm slung over Connie's shoulder to help him walk.

The trio walked off, as Annie lingered for just a moment, catching sight of a figure on one of the rooftops.

But when she looked again, it was gone.

**authors notes**

Short chapter, but there should be more in the next one, once I get around to making it.

Yes, there shall be another chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

It took some time before Jean was able to fall asleep that night.

Visions of amber eyes danced in his thoughts as he lay in the dark infirmary. A maniacal voice haunted him as he focused on keeping his eyes open, afraid of falling into slumber. The pain in his shoulder seemed to heat his entire body, the dagger wound deep and bloody. Every small sound would make him flinch, shadows would dance at the corner of his vision. Occasionally he would catch himself drifting to sleep, only to startle awake at some unknown force, some sixth sense.

He knew he was there.

He was lurking somewhere in the darkness that was night, in the shadows where Jean could not see him: waiting.

Eventually Jean did fall sleep, his breathing easing into slow, deep breaths. The fatigue of being attacked and hurt weared heavy on his body. His eyes closed and after that, he was unaware of his surroundings.

It was only then that the window did creak open.

Like the shadow he was, Marco slithered into the room without a sound, eyes locked on his prey.

A small, dark smile crossed the tormentor's face, his eyes not straying from Jean's curled form. Slipping past the other empty cots in the room, making his way over towards the unsuspecting soldier.

Jean's breaths came in steady exhales, eyes closed against the darkness closing in fast around him.

Marco was silent, his boots sliding easily across the wooden floor. He came to stop beside Jean's cot, reaching out a hand and ever so gently brushing the bangs from his forehead, only to have them fall stubbornly back into place.

A low, quiet chuckle couldn't stop itself from crawling up his throat and filling the emptiness of the room.

A manic gleam shined in Marco's eyes as he leaned over Jean, hands slowly reaching for his throat...

Only to stop as footsteps reached his ears.

A chill greeted Sasha as she opened the door to the infirmary. Scanning the room, brown eyes found the window ajar, a breeze blowing through the room.

Striding over to the window, Sasha stopped abruptly, a familiar feeling inching its way up her spine. The familiar sensation of another presence lingering in the room caught her attention. Wheeling quickly and surveying the room, she found nothing but empty beds, except for one which held her comrade.

Still, she could't shake the feeling...the feeling of being watched.

Closing the window as quietly as possible, Sasha made her way over to Jean, resting a hand on the sheet that covered him. A small smile graced her lips, and a small sigh left in a quiet exhale.

Dragging a chair over, Sasha sat down and leaned down so her arms cradled her head on the sheets, closing her eyes, Sasha fell into a quiet slumber, watching over her friend as he slept beside her.

And outside, a shadow watched patiently.


End file.
